Dear White girl who commented on the “fact” that I have finally decided to “grow my hair out” since our time in high school.
Let’s take a step back, pause and consider some things…
NUMBER 1… The girl you knew when we were kids didn’t “not have hair” because she didn’t want it; it wasn’t some autonomous choice. In fact, her hair was her obsession. Oh how she wished she had long hair…long enough to touch her waist so her Daddy would finally say “you’re pretty” and stop saying “your mom and all your aunts had long hair growing up, why don’t you?” in so many words. Try though she might, she could never figure out why her Dr. Miracle’s box perm could not actually perform this particular miracle. However persistent, she was never capable of elongating her tight kinks and coils enough for it to graze her shoulders and catch the eyes of all the boys, Black and White, who were fond of girls like you; all while you whipped your long blonde locks, none the wiser.
NUMBER 2… I have come to learn, and you should know, that growing Black hair is a PRIVILEGE…It is a rule, not an exception, that Black mommas are to be educated in the art or cornrowing, plaiting, and barrettes and bow placement; an education that was passed down from their mothers and their mothers before them. You could request whatever up-do you wanted, but you understood that one of these things would be incorporated. What wasn’t guaranteed however, was your momma or your momma’s momma’s ability to ensure length retention in the process. You see, there was a general consensus that Black hair was not manageable. That meant that on top of brushing and containing our strands, PERMS were the way to go. The objective was to get the hair as straight as you could, even if it meant chemically burning your scalp.
I’m sure that if you ask my fellow Black women they will tell you the tale of a Black girl’s first lesson in enduring unnecessary pain. They will tell you about the first time that perm caused a tingling sensation around the nape of their neck…initially. They will likely remember how that “tingle” turned into an unbearable burn, and how what started at the nape eventually spread across their entire scalp. All of this to have hair that was more TAME.
And with a less unruly, more acceptable hair texture to present to the world, you could almost bet your last dollar that your hair would break off. It was less likely to break off however, if you were privileged in some way; privileged to have money to pay an expert cosmetologist or to be biologically mixed in such a way that would reduce the number of kinks in your hair strands. I unfortunately was not blessed with either. And so I fell into the category of black girls who constantly and ignorantly asked, “why won’t my hair grow????” not realizing that my lack of length retention was directly related to your culture’s demonization of kinks and coils and my cultures undying need to assimilate. Which brings me to…
NUMBER 3… Tread lightly because Black girl’s hair is political. God forbid a Black girl’s edges not be laid or word got back to your mother that you were playing too hard at school and messed up your hair. Thanks to those good ole politics of respectability (if you don’t know what this is, there are a plethora of resources on the topic for your educational pleasure), Black girl hair was never just hair; it was a symbol of your civility.
For decades these politics have provided unwritten rules how Black people should present themselves to the world at all times. One of those rules? A Black girl must not present herself as anything other than a person who wishes to be welcomed into the normative society i.e. she must work incessantly to be accepted by white people. This means, in part, my hair could not offend your white sensibilities about what makes a person civilized and worth their humanity. Of course that meant that my kinks and coils were out. Perms were in, which also meant long hair was not an option…UNLESS you partook in weaves and extensions (and thank God for them because how else were Black girls going to continue oppressing themselves under the pressure of your expectations?). I personally never engaged in weave and extension movement so I can’t tell you much about them. You’d have to ask another Black girl about that subject.
Luckily for me, I’m no longer invested in pacifying normative society’s condemnation of my looks anymore so my hair is able to flourish as only it knows how…in all it’s 4C glory (4C is a hair type…there’s a science to it; Google can explain this), which is the only reason I’m not completely undone by your uneducated comment.
Finally, NUMBER 4… Girl, that’s not my real hair you talk so approvingly of…that’s a wig…cause my real hair has gotten too long now, and I just can’t be bothered to do it. *Kanye Shrug*
Otis Lily 